You know that feeling? When you're just waiting. Waiting for the next ten minutes to pass, the next 60 seconds- for that elusive moment when day becomes night. Waiting to get home, into your room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that you kept in all day? Tell yourself you never have to get up again and lull yourself into sedation by your own heavy breath muffled into the pillow and the smell of your own shampooed hair. Let your smile slowly wash off your face and begin to lose the numbness you hid yourself in.
That feeling of both relief and desperation. Nothing is wrong here. But nothing is right either. And you are so tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing. And you just want.. Just want someone to be there and tell you it's all going to be okay. You're so tired of telling yourself it's going to be okay.
But no one is going to be there. And you know that, again, you have to be strong... For yourself because no one can fix you. No one can fix what has happened to you, what is happening to you, what will happen to you.
You are waiting and you know you are waiting for nothing.
No one will take the leap and fall with you.
No one is at the bottom waiting to catch you.
You are so fucking tired of waiting.
Tired of having to be the one that fixes yourself and everyone else when shit hits the fan again. So tired of being strong. Your shoulder blades like wings just crumbling under the weight of the world that can only be trusted to be handled by you.
And for just once, for just one day, one night, one moment, you want it to be easy. To be simple, to be helped, to be saved. For someone to crawl in next to you, and not add pressure but take it away- with each breath the load lightens and the touch of their skin against yours eases the very negative energy out of your body into theirs because this once, they will take it on for you.
But you know that is a mirage, it won't happen, there is no dark knight on the horizon and as a matter of fact there is no white prince either. It's you and your rose petal soft skin and the thorns you have grown of cynicism decorated along handsome walls to protect the parts of you soft enough to still be punctured with a fairytale.
But you are still hoping, and praying, and still breathing with the very wish of it. That someday these breaths won't be wasted on everyone but yourself.
There is no happily ever after, it can never be the castle at the end of the story that is yours after you slay the dragon. The dragons are real and you will slay them- The happiness is the journey and your choice to make it.
